Master Class: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (+ Bonus Book 'Silent Daughter 1') Read Online Free PDF Page B

Mr. Perfect."
    "I thought he was Mr. Awesome?" I ask.
    She winks at me. "Whatever you prefer. See ya!"

    * * *
    C elia is out the door before I get a chance to reply anything to her final words. I exhale loudly and lean back against the wall, my feet dangling off the edge of the bed.
    I don't think I could ever admit it to Celia's face, but she may be right about some things she said. Of course, I didn't flirt with Mr. Portland. He may not be a real professor but at least for this semester and for this class, he is a teacher. My teacher.
    But there is just something about him.
    Obviously, he is handsome as hell. It's that obvious kind of gorgeous that hits you right in the face. I would be an idiot not to admit it. Tall, dark and mysterious. What woman wouldn't like that?
    Yet, that's not it.
    It's the way he looked at me. That intense gaze. There was some sincere interest behind his stare. His eyes found mine again and again during the lecture, even after I stopped interrupting him with my disruptive comments. At first I thought he was just checking to see whether I'd raise my arm again. That thought filled me with pride, because it made me feel powerful, almost as if he was scared of me.
    But after a while I began to realize that he was glimpsing at me for other reasons.
    He wasn't checking for confirmation or making sure that I wouldn't have anything to object. He was just looking at me. Just like that. As if it was something he enjoyed doing.
    I told myself that the reason why I stayed behind after class was for me to ask him about his nonexistent syllabus, but I knew I was lying to myself.
    Seeing all those other students stay behind and swarm around him, discouraged me and I was almost ready to give up and leave. But he saw me standing there, lingering, waiting. If I had run away at that point, I would have looked stupid. Like a coward.
    Now, I kind of wish I would have done just that, because as soon as I was alone with him, I was back to being my snooty self, trying to lecture him about his job. I couldn't help myself. He agitates me. His entire being challenges my ideals. My beliefs in education, degrees, proper scholarship and success.
    I was born into a family of scholars. Both my parents are professors and highly regarded in their respective fields. They did everything in their power to make sure that my older sister and I were not only able to follow their example, but even go beyond their achievements. We were already born by the time my father finally got tenure at a renowned University, and my mother got hers two years later, not at the same University, but in the same city. Even as a young child, I was inspired by them. They love what they're doing, they live for it. Not once have I heard them complain about Mondays the way other people do. Not only that, they also received a lot of respect. I saw it in the way my teachers and other parents talked to them. Having a doctoral degree and working as a professor not only appeared to be the most fun job in the world, it also comes with a lot of esteem.
    I wanted to be like them when I grew up, no question about it. I wanted to become a scholar like them - or so I thought. So far, I have to find the joy in what I'm doing. I chose the same major as my mother, Sociology, but the only satisfaction I get from it are good grades. Straight ‘A’s fill me with pride, but the work I have to do to get them doesn't make me happy. Not in the way it does for my mother.
    I used to have something I enjoyed doing, and it is still there at the back of my mind: Coding. When I took my first computer class in junior high school, I was intrigued by it from the start. While that was years ago, long before smartphones and apps became commonplace, I'm still intrigued with the technology behind it all. It fascinates me that rows of inscrutable words and lines can lead to a functioning program that can do pretty much anything. Coding languages can turn a simple idea into something real,